Long Reaching Poems
Long Reaching Poems. Below are the most popular long Reaching by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Reaching poems by poem length and keyword.
Like a branch that reaches out toward the sun
Or a leaf that gently touches the sky
steadfast and growing with roots running deep
or a robin preparing to fly
like a wing that glides on a gentle wind
seeking its way to a nest
like a wave gently rolling ashore
Searching for a place to rest
Like two hearts beating from many miles away
thumping in perfect harmony
trying to find some common ground, to set their spirits free
Like a kite that slowly dances across the sky
or the sun that chases the moon
like a rainbow arched from right to left that faded much too soon
Like a dolphin leaping over a perfect wave
or a shooting star that glitters in its flight
The soft sweet whisper of a gentle sea breeze
as the daytime slowly turns into night
like a mother and child sharing time
precious moments in a gentle embrace
like the the sun that rises in the eastern sky
with a smile on its early morning face
like the golden rays reaching out to touch
the green soft earth below
like a love that seeks to find an answer
one you might already know
like a song that reaches out to find
an open and receptive ear
like the person scared to make a change, suddenly losing that fear
like a road that reaches out to nowhere, suddenly finding its place
like two people standing lost gazing face to face
Where love’s blindness brings clear vision
Hearts seek out the perfect place
11/26/20
Took a long car ride
And went to the far side
There's no good in apartheid
You're darn right
Handled and dealt with hard times
Underneath starlight
Make it count and contribute
I do not kid you
It's true
Composition of bones and tissue
Battles with issues
In order to get through
Got to continue
In lieu
Of just reaching for tissues
Because it didn't work out, and you withdrew
Meanwhile, calmly or fiercely the wind blew
Hiding or showing
Drying or flowing
Dying or growing
Time never slowing
Continually going
I do my own thing
Too many folks egos are far too big
They act like a pig
And think they are a king
Such pettiness, I do not dig
I don't like to brag
I don't think 'I got life in the bag'
I don't want to lag
I don't mean to be a drag
I don't like to put up a white flag
I like to win, very competitive, even when caught in a snag
Through life I zig and I zag
With animals whose tails continue to wag
Slowly, but
with painstaking ease
I paint you out of my life
I mix the Grey
of ash and soot
into shade, ground
from between the leaves
of midnight and dawn
as the texture of you
begins the pale
to nothing
as each lift of the brush,
and every dab erased you
from the canvas of my life,
I realise,
I am overpainting each
and every particle
of you
I meditate on the good
but with regret I forget,
for in the remembering
burns a nothingness
I remix the colour
with a rainbows spray,
and I fill the void
where you once stood
too long
I stood in the background
of your Shadow painting
I am a now
mistress of my own easel
and my brush is reaching
out of the shadow
of you
Dawn Forever Rising
It starts
Street lights fade
their tiny soft-winged tenants flee
checkerboard facades change
last night's illumined squares now dark
become but yesterday's portals
some polished
some weather streaked
all reaching to reflect first breath
Steam ascends from the city's vacuum
gratings rattle with subterranean yawning
people-movers wind their way
through mazes of starts
stops
Topside tracks
like fixed contrails
glisten with frost
not yet enjoined by speeding transit
their skeletal tributaries
readying the trickle of humanity
into a mass ocean of glass and steel survival
Uptown
Downtown
A street sweeper's tire rubber and swirling brushes
beneath the overalled believer in Lottos
holding firm the wheel and gears of faith
of trust
gathering gutter-lodged disposal
glass and plastic
paper and cardboard
spinning into the vortex
lifting yesterday's careless cast-offs
inviting today's Starbuck anew
reflections of another kind
Leashes strain from anxious sniffing
bladders hold
ready to burst
seeking just the right tree
the right hydrant
the "ah, yes" that only a canine can know
Rays of sun begin spilling down alleyways
the long-tail rodents scamper for cover
their bellies full
seeking safety after a long night of ancient ritual
food of anything
digestion of history
all in a night's work
Suddenly
Full light cascades down avenues and streets
itinerant pigeons and seagulls spread habitual wings
ready to adore the steadies
the loners
park walkers
window ledge dependables
homeless with dance cards of crumbs
envying the moneyed insomniacs throwing chunks
baguettes gone stale
fit for few
a feast for many
senses loving the coos and warbles
the bobbing thank you
the reciprocal bonding
few but the lonely can appreciate
Finally
The steel and glass imitation of nature
comes fully alive
a sun's illumination without reserve
energy's provision for another day
Rich mix with the poor
money exchanges hands
the hotdog vendor
the hedge fund taker
the cookie jar provider
Most become tomorrow's yesterday
knowing little of the other light
requiring no rising or setting
illumination that never grows dim
something as nothing
forever light
never of darkness
Such for some
awakens from a New York sunrise
this dichotomy like no other
forever reminding
our eyes of dawn
one's inner light
is forever rising
He stumbles and trips,
walking through the dark forest.
His new shoes hurt his sore feet.
He continues on.
Brushing past a sodden branch,
the brittle limb snaps and breaks,
It pinches his hand.
Quickly he licks his finger.
The stiff sap is thick and sweet.
He finds it tasty.
Reaching out he snaps another,
it tastes like a candy cane.
He is the hunter
searching behind heavy eyes,
head upon his soft pillow,
sleepy little one
filled with dreamy illusions
of floating marshmallow clouds
raining sweet nectar
on golden lollipop trees.
Atop rolling gum drop hills,
seen through filmy eyes,
he rides a cherry caboose
on dark licorice whip rails.
Outside he can see
wispy strands of sugar floss
rise from butter cream rivers,
as Swedish fish jump
over rock candy boulders
of brightly colored sugar.
Now he runs laughing
in striped candy cane forests
where gooey gummy bears play.
He eats all of them,
waking with a tummy ache
from his drowsy fantasy.
8/26/2015
Keep working and don't stop,
Keep pushing like a running back.
There's no time to stop now,
You must keep going
Until you make it out.
If you give up now
you won't make it out.
Push through the hard times and
Enjoy most of the good times.
If you want it bad enough
You will not let anything,
Nor anyone hold you back
From reaching your goal.
Keep working and don't stop,
Keep pushing like a running back.
There's no time to stop now,
You must keep going
Until you make it out.
You can still do it so long as you
Have breath in your body.
Don't stop until your dreams
become a reality.
Keep fighting until
the final bell rings
Over the speakers and
throughout the arenas.
Keep working and don't stop,
Keep pushing like a running back.
There's no time to stop now,
You must keep going
Until you make it out.
At first
like sunlight
streaming and beaming on you
a shaft ray from heaven
like the ones that pierce the clouds
convincing the viewer.....Surely there IS a God!
I adored you
In our first weeks ....
love
was like the dabbled sunlight beneath a giant Maple tree
dancing hues of green and yellow
the smell of cut grass
the touch of gentle breezes ...and finger tips
too Soon...perhaps
I was ready to lay naked on a beach of sheets
tanning in our mutual glorious glow...
morning noon and night
Your terrain was remarkable and it took time to know it well
Your watery flow became an undertow
I could feel my hungers for you surge
like tidal pullings
waves pushing me
demanding me ...toward your shores
I was addicted
You became
increasingly silvery and moon like
Your light grays reflecting off darker waters
....casting shadows on the places where we walked
My steady golden light became as sun flares
erratic
demanding reaching and hot
....then barren with red gulping frustration and even rage
You would wane further
Becoming sliver-ous and silent
...with your new tiny thin white sharp edged meanness
Holding me at moon point
You would hook me just as I sought to slip away beneath the waves as they meet the horizon
and Escape!
It is then that you cratered me
always returning
only to pull away again
always returning
only to pull away again
like an asteroid hitting or a meteorite sliding by
One or more of them must have hit you hard
to set a path such as this in flight
This goes far beyond poetry
here I go...
snippets of thoughts
to words
to poetry
to hearts
touching
to smiles
reaching eyes
I am grateful,
I am blessed,
for the friendships formed
of chapbooks and poetry books
to reading books, watching movies
of eating to cooking
…of chocolate, truffles, tiramisu
of jellybeans and mushrooms…
of spam and eggs and mayo
and of course, soup
hot or cold
of trips and falls,
and bumps and stares
and typos...
of it's and its
of i before e,
and a instead of e
of Only Hopes
and Dreams
to sleeping
and NOT sleeping
of music, and drumbeats
of art, and painting
of life, of love, of faith
of jokes and laughter,
of craziness and madness
of contests
and comments
swinging
back and forth
beyond crazy and fun
to body parts
aching, tickling
and of writing about them
of sharing and giving
of thoughts and ideas
of challenges and triumphs
of milestones
of prayers...
of life and of death
of ghosts and doppelgangers
of questions and answers
and answers with questions
of troubles and tears
of secrets and fears
of misunderstanding
and learning
to growing and reaping
of doors opening and closing
of the past and of the future
of the present
of sunshine and rain
darkness and light
of rainbows
and animals, in and out
our lives and our minds
beginnings and endings,
to endings beginning
to cycles,
just going round and round
This is beyond poetry
and I am heartened,
I am blessed
so Thank You
for the poetry…
for the inspiration…
for the friendship.
Sounds so simple,
but it’s from my heart,
it's from my soul
just...Thank You.
0512201112a1228
My world’s eyes are crying
Wet tears roll down its face.
It cries for what it sees each day
And for the human race.
My world’s voice is calling
Shouts loudly everyday.
It calls our STOP and listen please
To what I have to say.
My world’s heart is breaking
Its love has turned to hate.
So, breaks and shatters everywhere
Just what now is its fate.
My worlds arms are reaching
Stretching far and wide.
It reaches out to hold man close
Embrace each man inside.
My worlds legs are walking
With strides now long and fast.
It walks away so we all must
Ponder on our past.
Please don’t go away dear world
We need you to survive.
How can we right this awful wrong
PLEASE help us stay alive.
And just when all was getting dark
I’ve seen a tiny light.
I think our world is turning back
To help us in our plight.
You MUST obey the golden rule
Bring love to everyone.
STOP all the ugly hate and war
Your ONE chance has begun.
Yes, dear world I hear your words
I PROMISE we will try.
For never do I wants to see
More sad tears from your eyes.
When I visited
Lagos,
the city
of demigods,
I walked
through the wealthy streets
of Banana Island.
And there
I met
Aliko Dangote.
The richest man
in Africa.
A man
who built mountains
from ambition.
When I looked
into his eyes,
I saw fire.
I saw resolve.
I saw a man
still climbing
after reaching
the summit.
In a gentle voice
he said,
"Nigeria
is a sleeping giant.
And Lagos
is its first step
into destiny."
The city
never sleeps.
The markets
never rest.
The streets
breathe business
day and night.
"If you seek
entrepreneurs,"
he said,
"go to Nigeria."
For in Lagos,
survival comes first.
And survival
teaches wisdom.
The men of Lagos
dream with open eyes.
They build
while others sleep.
They risk
while others fear.
Then Dangote smiled.
And softly said,
"The men of Lagos
understand multiplicity.
They are sleeping lions
beginning to awaken."
I answered,
"Some say
Nigerians are criminals."
His face
grew thoughtful.
Then he replied,
"And what of
the mafias of Italy?
What of those
who rob nations
in daylight
while wearing suits?"
For a moment,
silence spoke.
The kind of silence
that history understands.
The sun
was setting.
And the city lights
began to rise.
Then I knew.
The men of Lagos
are not merely
the future of Nigeria.
They are part
of the future
of Africa.
As we shook hands
and prepared to part,
I said,
"Dangote,
you are the
John D. Rockefeller
of Africa.
The Mansa Musa
of our generation."
He smiled.
And walked away
into the evening.
While Lagos,
restless,
hungry,
and eternal,
continued dreaming
of tomorrow.